First Impressions
by forgotten-kiss
Summary: The creation of Pride and Prejudice. About the author we all know and love. Not exactly orthodox with it about Jane, herself, but different is good.
1. Prolouge

**First Impressions-The creation of Pride and Prejudice**

**Prologue:**

_November 1796_

The rain, which had continuously poured down from the heavens for two days straight, was still showing no signs of relenting. The gentle pitter-patter of it and the way in which it streaked down the windowpanes, forming intricate designs in a matter of seconds, was growing less and less satisfying as the time wore on-in fact, it was getting to the point of annoyance.

Jane's mind had been deeply engaged in a-what seemed distant-memory of earlier that week; Cassandra and herself had taken a delightful stroll one morning; basking in some of the last fine weather they'd have all year and hoping it would be around for a while.

'No such luck there' she thought to herself, with a mood dark enough to rival that of the storm clouds outside.

After brooding silently for a while longer, she tore her eyes away from the rain-spattered window and the grim landscape beyond it, and moved from the window seat where she had been residing, coming back into the vicinity of the people she loved best in the world.

Jane took up her usual chair and cast around for something to do, anything to take her mind away from the monotony that had been these past days. Coming up short with ideas, she glanced at her family members trying for some inspiration as for what to do.

Her charming sister, Cassandra, sat to her right, her eyes fixed intently on her embroidery; not that she needed to fixate her mind with it so-Cassandra could produce a truly stunning piece of embroidery with little effort-yet, as Jane supposed, she was probably trying to ease herself away from this confinement, which was as disagreeable to Cassandra as it was to herself. Embroidery however required qualities, which Jane happened to be rather lacking in: such limitless patience or the ability of continuous precision. No, embroidery did not seem the thing. As her gaze wondered round the room, fixing, in turn, on each of her family members and their various forms of amusement they had fashioned.

Her father, a Rev. George Austen had busied himself with a novel of some description-this was not such a great change, Jane noted to herself, that her father should be idling his time away by reading a novel. From a very young age it had always comforted Jane that there would always be a fairly vast collection of reading material around her Hampshire living. Her family had always been great readers and Jane had been no exception to this trait. It was one of the few habits she and her father shared-liking to employ their time with a good novel. However, feeling restless as she was, reading did not seem to appeal to her as it more than often did. She would have to make use of her time with a slightly different form of diversion, which was still yet to come to her.

As the time past however, Jane's initial thought trail of finding a source of amusement seemed to have dissolved, on realising-subconsciously-that observing her family was more than an adequate way to while away the time.

Upon glancing back at Cassandra, who now sat across the room, back turned and hunched, writing a letter as though in deepest secrecy, Jane could not help but smile, yet mingled with a twinge of sadness. By the way of his desperate secrecy it was plain enough that she was writing to a certain Mr. Fowle, Cassandra's husband to be, and, incidentally, the man who had captured her sister's heart. He was stationed in the Caribbean at present, serving as a chaplain for the militia stationed there. He had been gone for much longer than, even her patient countenance, could bear; and the letters between one another had become their one remaining lifeline to for them to hang onto; counting down the days until they would speak, face to face, once more.

Mr. Fowle was yet to receive a fixed date of his return; yet by the way her sister spoke he was likely to be on board a ship by the late spring months, then consequentially, by Cassandra's side, as a husband, before Christmas. Even though it did still seem an incredibly long time, Cassandra was comforted it was not the two and a half years they had initially thought would be the case.

Despite being uncommonly happy that her sister had found, so it seemed, the best of husbands. She still found part of herself wishing it wasn't so. After Mr. Fowle did return from the Caribbean and wed Cassandra, she would be alone with no one, save her parents, for company. As she looked back, thinking of the numerous farewells she had shared with her brothers as they left to make their ways in the world with new families or positions at sea or Oxford, Jane realised she must follow suit, weather that be by marriage, or some other means, she had to be able to lay her claims on something.

As her gaze wandered, yet again, to the dreariness of the world outside, Jane wondered which path she would eventually end up taking through this world. Until Cassandra's Mr. Fowle had left for the Caribbean, Jane had had little thought of her life beyond these walls, she had read in novels and seen with her own eyes many a person enter into a loveless marriage, it appeared to Jane to be a bonus if you even held your life's partner in high esteem, heaven forbid actually love them! Society, it seemed, was still, and would continue to be, the main concern of the majority of people entering into the marriage division. It seemed incomprehensible to Jane, as she had discovered more and more about the world in which she was growing into.

While growing up she had made one firm belief and was determined to stick by it for as log as she lived; she had vowed to never, under any circumstances, enter into a marriage where the partner was disagreeable to her. She had never had a desire to be elevated into society if it contained the sort of people who went against the choice she had made. She pitied them. Their minds, so clouded by new gowns and new carriages, never really thought how it would be to have any regard for their husband, or how it would be to have a conversation with him. She pitied the people whose eyes could not see beyond class boundaries and had to be in society to feel important. She vowed never to enter into that life.

'The more I see of the world, the more I am dissatisfied with it' Jane thought to herself and let out a sigh which went unnoticed by all those present.

* * *

**A/N:**Hi, well, i know its a bit different from the norm on here, as it's not _technically_ a fan fic,but it seemed a good idea...to me at least lol...anyway, i've only written this so far but i'd really like some feedback as to whetherI should continue it!

I'll take anything; the good, bad, ugly...just a point in the right direction, even if it isthe recycle bin :oD

Thanks, Libby


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1:**

_February 1797_

The months had past rather slowly, and, with lack of events rather drearily, far to drearily for Jane's liking at any rate. Christmas had passed and the year had come to a close; January had trundled through in the only way January knew how and before anyone had realised, it was February.

After church one Sunday she bade her father farewell and explained she was going to take a walk and would be back before the afternoon; the weather had been uncommonly good that morning and Jane decided to use this to her full advantage by scurrying along the country paths she had not visited in months. When out amongst the country Jane was finally free to let her thoughts run away with her; her mind raced, which was something of a rarity, as young lady's minds were not encouraged to 'race' and most ladies never thought of, thinking.

As she browsed over many-a-topic in her mind, her thoughts struck back to some of the scenes she had witnessed in church earlier that morning. A certain trait of Jane's was to observe a person with them being unawares, she had found you really do see the most insightful things into one's character while doing this.

Although it was most unbecoming for a young lady, or anyone for that matter, to stare at another for a period of time, Jane had observed Mr. Vikes, the butcher, and the ways in which he had feigned attentiveness and full concentration at first, his back straight, eyes fixated on her father, with the image of him drinking in every word uttered from his mouth; as time drew on she noticed his posture slide and his eyes glaze over with his right hand subconsciously fingering his wedding band. The change in his countenance had been rather amusing to watch, but she had felt a touch affronted at his behaviour for she had never found her father's sermons odiously dull. On the contrary, she believed he delivered them rather well.

However, this was not her motive of venturing out here, to have her mind judge Mr. Vikes attention span, no. Recently her mind had been racing more than usual, her current writing escapades had been put to one side during the cold winter-she had finished most and the others had held little backbone in her eyes; subsequently she had began a new and, what she had found, more established piece which she was enjoying immensely. Unable to think of a title Jane had powered on nonetheless, it would be a long-winded love story, which would contain many obstacles and misconceptions of characters.

The characters had, however been slightly more troublesome. Her heroine, whilst almost complete, was, so she felt, lacking in some qualities. She, for she was currently without a name, would have to be quick-witted along with beautiful to set her apart. She would take a keen interest in matchmaking, especially for her friends and sisters. There could be a possibility of one of her pairings backfiring on her and teach her a lesson. However Jane wasn't sure whether the plot would be too dramatic with this and resolved to ponder the matter later.

Her heroine's matchmaking tendencies would, she planned, create a way for her to be ignorant of her suitor's intentions and other's true characters, thus leading to a climax of realisation.

With all this, she would be moderately accomplished, with talents in every field and the promise to be excellent with dedication. Regretfully she would never obtain this status in any, as she would prefer to try everything due to a slightly flighty temperament.

But even so, there was still a sense of something misplaced or not quite fitting and Jane could not think of it for the life of her.

The heroine's, family hadn't been given a large amount of thought. She had decided her elder sister to be everything charming, somewhat like dear Cassandra, and for the two to be confidantes of one another. There would be younger siblings, perhaps one or two but she had no consequence for them at present.  
The parents had originally both favoured the eldest, but then she could not see the sisters having a close companionship if that were the case. She decided upon her heroine being her fathers favourite and the eldest the mothers simply for the fact she was so charming.

"And, she felt the eldest had the best chance of marrying well!" she cried aloud as though she had made some great discovery, and then laughed at her own foolishness. Suddenly a problem of a most grievous nature struck her.

How could she have both the mother and her heroine orientated around matchmaking? She loved the idea of her impish heroine imposing herself onto her unsuspecting friends and siblings; it made for great diversion indeed!

On the other hand, it made perfect sense for the mother to be more concerned about matrimony than her witty daughter-especially if there were three or four offspring in the family.

It would just not do for there to be two matchmakers in the family.

Should she simply write off the mother? Or cast-aside the particular trait in the daughter and pick it up at another time? It did seem a great loss. But maybe it would do well to leave it at the present.

Maybe a review of her heroine was in order. With that thought trapped in her mind, Jane bounded off down the path in the direction of home.

* * *

When she arrived at her front door she took a second to glance over her apparel and received a small surprise: The fine weather and her thoughts had deceived and distracted her into thinking the paths which she had wandered along were dry. Of course it is very rare for country paths to be so in February and this had resulted in Jane's boots and petticoat to be filthy dirty and quite disgusting. She hoped that Warren, the family's manservant, wouldn't be too cross with the state of her boots. As for her petticoat, she felt it best to change out of it straight away and deal with it when the time came. Jane felt she could do without that particular conversation at the present moment, as she was full set to make alterations to her budding characters.

After having changed, Jane returned downstairs to her favourite spot by the window, where her mother had insisted upon moving or purchasing a small desk to place their for Jane to write on. It was a very delicate, pretty little desk and Jane was very grateful for it. As she settled down to write her mother herself entered the room apparently searching for something.

"Hello mama"

"Oh. Jane dear, you haven't seen the new bottle of ink I bought last Tuesday? Is that not it? She accused, pointing at the ink perching on the top of Jane's desk.

"No, this has been on my desk for at least a fortnight, it's not half full. Look."

" Very well. It's of no great importance anyway. Oh, speaking of importance. The Ferfax's struck up a conversation with me after church today, after you had disappeared on your walk, their niece is coming to stay with them for a month or so, very soon, I daresay, Elizabeth her name is-she sounded a very pleasant girl, very accomplished in the piano. However, those Ferfax's do go on-I feel we could be quite opposed to this Elizabeth Ferfax by the date of her arrival."

"Mama" Jane said amidst their laughter, but agreeing about the amount of desire they would have to meet this Elizabeth Ferfax when the time did come.

Once her mother had left her to her own thoughts, she began editing her heroine and whilst in the process of doing so an idea hit her. Eliza, Lizzy, Elizabeth! What a pleasant name for her heroine, diverse and could be made fit for society or fit for family and friends. It was perfect.

With that obstacle overcome. Jane continued her alterations with a small, knowing smile gracing her lips as the sun set outside thought the window beside her.

* * *

**A/N:** Long time no, er,hear,I guess. Anyway hi, sorry about the abnormally long wait. Ithink afterI posted it, I couldnt think where to gonext...

Thanks so much for you lovely reveiws, peoplewho reveiwed and i really hope you enjoyed this!


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